


Patrick at the Wedding

by ouryouthiswasted



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouryouthiswasted/pseuds/ouryouthiswasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In his dream he wakes and there is no wedding. There is just Jonny and himself in a dim hotel room eating buckwheat pancakes with no syrup, and Jonny tells him he’s sorry and that this is everything he could ever want. In his dream, this is everything and this is enough. But even dream-Patrick knows that it isn’t going to last."</p><p>Patrick gives a speech at Jonny's rehearsal dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patrick at the Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this out of my head. This is my first fic.

The microphone feels heavy in in his hand.

 

The applause has stopped. David is still crying a little, laughing a little, and Jonny is shaking his head. He claps David’s back, says a few words to him quietly, and looks expectantly to Patrick.

 

Patrick stands. “Um—“ he starts. He shifts the microphone slowly between his hands. There are so many eyes on him, waiting. A budding panic builds in his belly. But now Jonny is looking up at him. Now Jonny is looking up at him with a softness around his face, smiling.

 

“First—“ he says, turning to Lauren. “Congratulations. Lauren, you are the best match Jonny could hope for.” His voice turns rough, but the words still rise up from his throat, fluttering.

 

“As everyone knows, Jonny and I were rookies together. We never became friends, really; we were forced to be friends. We were stuck with each other – stuck in hotel rooms together, stuck on a line together, stuck with sponsorship deals together. We were physically jammed into the same space and made to smile and like each other even though we were, we are, completely opposite people.

 

“And yet, it worked. We had a lot of screaming matches, even fist fights. But we also grew. We grew up so much. And Jonny – you helped me, you helped me grow up.

 

“I’ll never forget the summer before our second cup, before I went to Switzerland. I’m not proud of what happened and we don’t need to go into it now. But Jonny was there for me. He was tough when he needed to be tough and understanding when he needed to be understanding. He made me rethink a lot of things, and he made me be better. That’s the thing about Jonny. He makes everyone better.

 

“Lauren—“ he looks at her, then down to his feet. “We didn’t get off to a good start. I know that. I—I—feel ashamed about that. And it wasn’t because of anything you did.” He takes a breath, two breaths. He feels a calmness now in his chest, spreading through his body.

 

“It was because you got to have all of him. But the truth is, and I know that now, the truth is that Jonny has a lot of love to give.

 

“Jonny, you are my best friend. And I’m so happy for you today. I probably can’t express it well enough. More than anyone, you deserve this. You deserve to be so, so happy. I –“ and Jonny’s face now is impossible, and Patrick is crying, and he just says it. “I love you. Congratulations.”

 

He swallows the toast, and he’s sitting down, but he can’t feel it, can’t hear what people are saying to him, is watching Jonny who is just staring back with deep, deep eyes. His blood pounds in his ears. He doesn’t remember how the food tastes, or how much he drinks.

 

“That was a great speech, Peeks,” Sharpy tells him, somberly. The weight of Sharpy’s hand fixes on his shoulder, lingers. Sharpy looks sad as he searches Patrick’s face, but Patrick is blank. Patrick doesn’t know what he’ll find there. “Oh, Peeks,” Sharpy says. “Oh, Peeks.”

 

Afterward, Jonny is standing next to his car in the parking lot, quiet, and he chews on his lip. “I didn’t know,” Jonny says. “Kaner – Patrick – I didn’t know.” The night expands above them darkly. In Winnipeg, in the summer, the stars breathe overhead like they’re alive.

 

Patrick wants to, but he doesn’t laugh. He nods, opens the car door. Gets in. “No, you’re fine,” he says. The simplicity of it is easy. And he drives.

 

In his dream he wakes and there is no wedding. There is just Jonny and himself in a dim hotel room eating buckwheat pancakes with no syrup, and Jonny tells him he’s sorry and that this is everything he could ever want. In his dream, this is everything and this is enough. But even dream-Patrick knows that it isn’t going to last.

 

In the morning the guys rise early to go fishing before everything begins. David reels in a 3-footer, their only catch. Patrick hates fishing, but later, when he looks through the pictures, he pauses at a shot of himself on the boat. He’s gazing into the distance. The sun is rising and the light is just glowing on his forehead. Jonny is in the picture, looking at Patrick with an expression that’s hard to read.

 

By noon they’ve dressed and are making their way to the church. The limousine is buzzing and Jonny’s anxious, smoldering quietly and resolutely as if before a game seven, and Sharpy is buckled over in laughter at Seabs’ mismatched socks. Patrick is next to Jonny, presses his palm on Jonny’s back. “I can’t –“ Jonny begins quietly, trembling softly.

 

But Patrick just nods a bit, leaning closer. “You can.” He smiles the best he can.

 

They don’t speak again. Patrick walks a bridesmaid down the aisle to the processional music, though he’s not the one Jonny’s waiting for at the altar. Jonny’s not even looking at him at all.

 

Lauren is a radiant bride, Patrick thinks, the whole church thinks, and the wedding is beautiful like a picture book.

 

 


End file.
